79th Boat Basin
by LilyBartAndTheOthers
Summary: Whenever they went there, they had a feeling to escape from the implicit rules of their existences. WK fic.
1. Welcome At Number Eighteen

It had started way before all the rest, when they hadn't even met yet and life reached a degree of boredom that nonetheless flirted with a reassuring logic; so everyone remained quiet in spite of the monotone shades.

It had been an odd sensation spreading from her lower stomach to her heart as she had landed her eyes on the place for the very first time and left The Upper West Side behind. All of a sudden the traffic noises had stopped, vanishing in the murmurs of the water and the clicking sound of the boats. A light breeze had caressed her nape. She had made a few steps forwards with the timidity of the novices then had fallen in love with what had looked like one of New York secret treasures.

The Boat Basin was located on West 79th. As you abandoned Riverside Drive, a few steps led you down to the bank of The Hudson and the piers of what looked like a small, intimate harbor. On Sunday the park was invaded by families as the tables of the unique café found acolytes for an improvised sunbath near by the water. But what most New Yorkers ignored was that it was the only marina of the city that allowed year-round residency in boats.

And it added something to the place, a sort of sentiment to belong to a small, friendly community lost in the harsh immensity of a metropolis.

Through the years she had developed an odd dependence to the place. It calmed her down, eased her worries and cleared up her confused wonders. There wasn't a week she would spend without going to The Boat Basin, if only for a coffee.

It was her getaway from a successful but yet at times suffocating life.

…

Clutched to the sheet of paper on which he had written down the address in a rush, Will made his way to the very last pier; briefcase in hand. The self-confidence emanating from his expensive clothes as well as his studied haircut didn't match his hesitant steps and the result was a strange one to watch from an external perspective.

Eighteen; the number had been painted in black letters on a small white pole, a yacht sagely moored behind. However it wasn't Stanley's, the one they had taken the sea with a couple of times in the past. Growing in confusion, Will climbed on the deck and knocked on the front door.

"Is it a joke?"

Karen's smile disappeared as soon as she opened the door and faced his abrupt, harsh question. Obviously upset, she didn't bother to reply and turned on her heels instead before heading to the other end of the boat; martini in hand.

She was wearing a large, black straw hat that matched her classic knee-length dress and with her sunglasses on, she vaguely looked like a Hollywood Golden Age legend.

They crossed a living-room before stepping out on a rear deck where cushions were haphazardly abandoned on a teak floor as well as a romantic novel and a cell phone.

"Please, sit down. Would you like to drink something?"

Slightly amused by Karen walking barefoot, Will shook his head in silence then settled on the floor with a barely hidden discomfort. The yacht was a lot smaller than the one Stanley owned, not as luxurious either. And if it hadn't been for her personal items littering the place, he would have imagined that Karen had rented it for the occasion.

"What are we doing here?"

"We are about to have one of those boring meetings that ruin my lunch breaks every now and then. I still don't understand why Stan wants me to be implicated in the life of his society. I hate business. Oh by the way, I ordered two salads at the café. Is that okay for you?"

A wave of heat rushed to her cheeks as she pretended to feel comfortable with the scene but the truth was that she had never been so anxious and stressed. Looking down immediately Karen hoped that her large hat would dissimulate her reddened face and not betray her instinctive feelings.

"But where are we exactly?"

"Well this is actually my yacht. Stanley offered it to me a couple of years ago when he had to cancel our vacations in The Bahamas. It is a nice one but way too small to go away with it so I mainly use it for my own pleasure around The Boat Basin. And I have forgotten to book a table at this insipid restaurant you like so much… Since we needed a place to meet at, I thought this would be a nice one; quiet enough."

Someone knocked on the door and she hurriedly stood up, almost glad to have a break from this odd confession.

"These must be our salads. I will be right back."

Within a second Karen disappeared inside, finally letting a long sigh escape from her lips. The situation was a torture that she couldn't manage to properly understand. Manhattan had more restaurants than she could count. It would have been easy for her to get a table but for some reason she had thought about the yacht.

Perhaps there wasn't any particular reason to her singular decision, except a silent whim to spend some more time there before going back to the office. Besides, she had been rather busy lately and hadn't had many occasions to stop by.

But still, for the very first time she had agreed upon letting someone have a sneak at her private life, those moments nobody knew about. It was troubling and full of doubts, of uncertainty.

Though she was glad _ in spite of the odd situation _ to share this unexpected moment with Will; she was glad to have chosen him.


	2. Of Compromises And Life

As she had come back home, it had seemed that her wedding vows had suddenly broken into pieces and from then on the sentiment to have cheated on her husband hadn't left her if only for a second.

Nothing had happened or at least nothing that would have deserved such an abrupt opinion but for some reason she had begun to carry on the weight of remorse, feeling guilty for having met Will at The Boat Basin. It was ridiculous and unfounded but she couldn't help it, as the days were passing by sweeping away her chance to forget about it.

Perhaps she shouldn't have allowed her friend to make a step into her personal life. Now she had a feeling to have lost her shield and things would never be the same anymore.

It had been a mistake that she wouldn't repeat.

As she entered the lobby of the hotel, Karen felt how her self-confidence began to boil again in her lower stomach. The sensation made her smile. Finally the confusing wonders were going away, leaving her alone after a hectic series of insomnias. It might have been time to turn the page and start it all over again, as if nothing had happened.

"Mrs. Walker…"

As usual she ignored the comment and headed straight to the table situated at the very far end of the room, in the corner. From there the world sounded safer, more delicate as well. And even though she loved being the center of attention, sometimes it was good to get a rest from the demanding, socialite crowd.

"I hate those last-minute lunches. I thought that you would know it by now."

She had rehearsed the sentence in her head during the journey from Grace's office to The Palace Hotel, looking for the incisive tone that would take him aback and so the situation would be in her hands one more time.

She needed the roles to be reversed.

"Just as I hate spending so much time talking to you about business when you don't give a damn, are we done now? I have just ordered your martini, by the way."

Following one of those synchronicities typical of movies, a waiter arrived with her drink and she hurriedly took a sip to hide her discomfort. The truth was that it still didn't sound right; the two of them, there, at the table.

Perhaps it was too late to pretend that nothing had happened and their relation had changed on a deeper level than what she had previously thought.

She swallowed hard and motioned the papers Will had put down on the table.

"What are these, exactly?"

Her tone of voice was a lot sweeter all of a sudden, as if she had abdicated to a silent fear.

"These are the basic lines of your upcoming tasks while Stanley will be in The Bahamas. How come you don't accompany him, by the way? You always do."

"I am way too busy to go to the islands right now. Besides the weather is terribly humid there at this time of the year, I don't like it."

Perhaps if she hadn't replied so quickly or with a barely restrained anger, her lies could have been assimilated to a pertinent remark but the effect had crashed down like a house of cards, pushing her to look down at her lap. Will's silence only confirmed her failure but with tact, he didn't insist.

It was enough embarrassing that her husband had told her the day before that he preferred to go on this trip alone because he couldn't take her impossible behavior anymore without as well letting half of the population of Manhattan know about it.

The worst of all was that he had said if matter-of-factly, during the diner; in front of his children.

"You know, anyway you aren't really alone at the head of Walker. Inc. when Stanley isn't here. I am by your side 24 hours a day if you need me or if you happen to have any doubt about what is going on."

"Will, if there is something that I hate more than anything it is when people take pity on me so please stop this ridiculous little speech."

The vodka burnt her throat but she didn't let it show and listened to her friend's explanations instead. She couldn't stand business, all those terms she barely got to understand. It was boring and bare, too cold to deserve a mere second of attention.

She did it for Stanley, for all the things their marriage meant. It was just another compromise.

"We could have had lunch at The Boat Basin Café."

His sudden allusion made her blush. She had hoped that they wouldn't mention it, ever. The situation might have been extremely awkward since the very beginning but at least it had remained bare and impersonal enough for her to feel safe.

"Since when do you have something against this five-star restaurant? It is one of the best you can find midtown."

"But it doesn't sound right."

She had always loved his arrogance. It was a lot stronger than her so-called self-confidence that only found resonance in fragile appearances. Will didn't lie about himself. His eloquence was natural and she envied him a lot for that.

He always said out loud what she preferred to quietly put aside.

Besides, he was right. As they left for their respective offices half an hour later, the sentiment to have made a mistake upon the choice of the place spread again in her mind. The restaurant had been impersonal and she hadn't taken any risk about her private life but yet it seemed that they had gone too far; as if after having tried once something a little more friendly, their references had broken down and they needed to find a new compromise.


	3. On Sunday Afternoon

The sun was high, turning the waters into a pond of glimmering diamonds and warming up her legs as she walked down the pier. The clicking of the sailboats seemed to be murmuring a sweet song to her ears and she felt fine under the blue sky, at peace.

It is only when she reached the small white pole that she realized Will was standing there, hands in the pockets of his jeans. He was observing the yacht nonchalantly or so, a bit unsure of what his next step should have been.

"What are you doing here?"

The lightness that had rocked her soul until then vanished suddenly and she tightened her grip on the bag she was holding.

An odd coincidence caused Will to jump. He hadn't seen her arrive for being lost in the contemplation of the boat, like absorbed in his own curiosity.

"I was just passing by _ having a drink at the café _ and I decided to check if you would happen to be here as well."

She didn't reply to his obvious lie and simply rolled her eyes in silence before climbing on the deck.

"Aren't you supposed to spend some time with Grace on Sundays?"

She opened the door and they stepped inside. The room had this coldness typical of places that had been deprived of life for quite a while; just like your home when you went on vacation and at your return you could feel the darkness that had inhabited the walls during your absence.

She took off her stilettos and rushed to open the large windows to let the sun come in, as well as the murmurs of the harbor.

"What do you want to drink?"

"A tea would be nice."

A few minutes later Karen joined him on the rear deck carrying a tray with a tea kettle and two mugs. He had sat down at the table, not on the floor as she used to. Without saying a word she settled in front of him and poured some tea.

"You aren't drinking a martini?"

"I am not allergic to tea… So what are you doing here?"

She was in the shadows but she had nonetheless kept her sunglasses on, to avoid his direct gaze and hide the feelings her eyes always betrayed. Perhaps it could have been considered as a coward gesture but it was all she owned.

Before her question Will seemed to hesitate. He cast a glance at the waters, let a long sigh escape then finally leaned on the table with his well-known determination.

"I have met you three years ago and from then on I have seen you almost every day. I thought that we had shared a lot and had even grown pretty close until the last time, when you invited me over here. It is when I realized that I knew absolutely nothing about your life, about the person you are. It is sad."

Without asking him if he bothered about it, she lit up a cigarette and took her time to reply; the smoke sliding on her lips slowly.

"But if I tell you everything, the adjective 'private' that always precedes the noun 'life' in the infamous expression won't make sense anymore. What belongs to the personal category isn't supposed to be shared with anyone."

"I am not asking you to tell me about your whole life but just some things; like the existence of this yacht that apparently everybody ignores. It hadn't crossed my mind that you might have an actual life outside of our group, as stupid as it sounds. And now the mystery that floats upon your silence is extremely intriguing. And I feel bad for not having cared earlier."

She didn't let show of anything but the honesty of his words had touched her more than expected. She had been slightly taken aback, sweetly enough.

"Let's make a deal, okay? I will only answer your questions if you answer mine as well."

"Sure… I don't have any secret, though."

"Oh come on, we all do."

"Are you sad?"

She couldn't help but laugh, nervously for his sudden question having stirred up a strong wave of discomfort. She took a sip of her tea; let her fingers run on the mug. Perhaps she shouldn't have accepted his game. They had barely begun that she already regretted it.

"Why are you asking me such a thing? Do I look like I am sad?"

"Then why do you drink so much? Why do you take these pills?"

"Sometimes life is a little bit more boring than what you had expected so to spice it up you go towards the first thing you see; the first thing you know that kind of works. I am not unhappy at all and it even saddens me that you actually think I might be. I have all the things that I have always dreamed to get, starting with a more than comfortable situation. You could give me one billion dollar that it wouldn't change anything because sometimes, for whatever reason, I am a bit melancholic."

"Do you have issues with Stanley? You seem to argue a lot with him."

"We are married. These things happen to any couple; it is part of the deal. Stan is a wonderful husband, an attentive father as well. I am not allowed to say something that wouldn't go into this sense. It wouldn't be fair."

"You should talk to him instead of turning towards alcohol and pills. A relation won't work if there isn't any communication whatsoever. You should tell him when you are bored and how you need him to overcome it."

"I don't necessarily have to drink. Look right now, I am having a tea. Besides, we do speak. You don't know how we behave in private, how we spend time together. So don't take it bad but your advices aren't well founded."

"But you aren't in The Bahamas with him."


	4. When It Turns Gray

Whenever silence settled upon their shoulders, she grew uncomfortable and felt awkward. It seemed that she was losing control, falling down into a bottomless hole. It made her feel dizzy and hesitant while a sentiment of fear spread over her mind and before she could do anything, she was frankly panicking.

"Would you like me to spend the night with you?"

A bitter instinct pushed her to hold her breath as she looked up at him from her seat.

"It isn't Saturday."

"I hate Saturdays."

He didn't hear her whisper or at least didn't make any remark about it. Instead he simply stood up and poured himself a Cognac. Her hazel eyes followed his slow gesture with the distance of failures.

"I don't like spending the night alone."

"You have been doing it for the past six years, how come all of a sudden it is an issue for you? Listen, I had a rough week so if we could avoid speaking… It would be nice. I am way too tired to deal with some whim of yours tonight."

The harshness of the comment made her frown. She looked down at the floor and bit her lips tightly; her hands clutched to the edge of the armchair she was sat on.

She had no idea when their relation had changed and worsened. Happy memories were still haunting her mind but as the weeks were passing by, they were slowly fading away; getting substituted by his bare remarks, the distance he seemed to be taking.

"But you have been off for two weeks… I need you, Stanley. I missed you."

The sound of his glass hitting back the table pierced the silence of the room and made her jump. She had got on his nerves, without any reason.

"Goodnight, Karen."

He left.

…

Nothing made sense anymore.

What she had taken as references was slowly slipping through her fingers, getting strangely replaced by their antithesis; her marriage was weakening and against all expectations she longed for nothing but her Sunday chat afternoons with Will. Perhaps his lack of judgment tended to reassure her and so she dared to speak by then, for the very first time.

It wasn't easy but yet addicting.

After the unexpected encounter on the pier, she had offered him to come back and before they had realized it, they had fallen into a sort of sweet routine. She liked his presence, his persona; the way his words could sound wise and reassuring.

She might have needed it a bit more than what she had thought until then.

"Why do you come here so often?"

Her first reaction was to sweep away the question with a shrug as she plunged one of her fingers in her martini, twirling it around in the drink. The original curiosity she might have had for him at the beginning had almost completely disappeared. She didn't have as many questions for him as he did for her and it bothered her.

Will hadn't been lying when he had said that he didn't have any secret whatsoever. It was her life the one that remained blurry.

"It is a getaway without going too far. When I need to get some fresh air I come here but as soon as I miss the city I just have to turn around and face the buildings."

A family probably passed on the pier because children's laughter pierced the silence of the harbor, getting mixed with the odd singing of the seagulls and the little waves crashing against the boat.

"I see what you mean and why you come here. It is a very peaceful place, rather peculiar as well. I am starting feeling the same."

"Who is stealing your air that you need to go away?"

"Who is stealing yours?"

She didn't reply, lit a cigarette instead but barely touched it. Sometimes she simply liked its presence between her fingers. It made her feel alive just as she would feel naked if one of her rings was missing.

His sigh resulted loud, not as light as she had expected from him.

"Grace doesn't want to have a child with me."

She felt like telling him that she was in the same situation with Stanley but soon enough she realized that it wasn't true. They simply had never mentioned the idea, in eight years of what people referred to as a serious relationship.

Gasping for air before the realization, she stood up quickly then made a few steps towards the end of the deck.

"Karen, are you okay?"

"You can't blame her for it. Isn't it fair that she wants to find a man who sentimentally loves her first; that she wants to have her own family and get married? She is young so naturally she has hopes over the matter. Having a child with you would mean that she would have to renounce to a few things, starting with her love life. It is quite a sacrifice."

"I know but she is my only chance to make something of my life, to fulfill the reason why I am alive."

"Just because you don't experience parenthood doesn't mean that you are pointless."

She wasn't sure for whom she had said it in the first place but the anger of her voice had released a long-restrained frustration. Her heart was beating fast. She almost felt dizzy.

Will didn't miss the ambiguity of her comment and nodded, joining her at the end of the deck while the sun was slowly vanishing through pink shades of a warm light over The Hudson.

"What is the day you like the least and why?"

Perhaps one day they would stop avoiding tough subjects and instead go all the way through them.

She cast a glance at him and swallowed hard.

It wasn't the right time yet.

"Saturdays… I hate those Saturdays I am supposed to spend with Stanley. As a matter of fact, I used to love them but all of a sudden, one day, they turned gray."


	5. Looking Like Julie

"I met someone last night. He told me that I was pretty. It hadn't happened in a very long while."

The clicking of the lighter brought a peculiar final sound to her words.

She leaned her head backwards, closed her eyes and let the smoke of her cigarette slowly vanish in the air.

She felt like she was living in the dark. Her existence would have embraced the shadows of a blurry past and it was all cold now, different.

"What did you do?"

"I smiled then said that there was someone waiting for me at home so he went away."

"You did right."

"I would have liked him to insist. I wish he had."

The idea had haunted her mind all night long, stolen her dreams and left a bitter sensation on her chest as the sun had finally risen.

Her marriage had reached this point when the notion of infidelity sounded rather tempting, not in a desire of revenge but to feel alive again. Stanley didn't touch her, barely exchanged a few words a day as if he had turned the page over her. She dreaded the moment he would come in and tend the papers for what looked like an inevitable divorce now.

She didn't want that.

"You didn't go for him either."

"It is pure cowardice from my part."

"You don't really want it to happen. You aren't ready to cross the lines and cheat on Stan."

"I just wish I had someone waiting for me at some point in my life."

Sometimes she wondered if he said anything to Grace about her confessions. She would feel betrayed if he happened to do so, hurt. Though for some reason she would need to thank him as well; oddly enough.

Nothing had really changed. Once they hit Riverside Drive again _ leaving The Boat Basin behind _ they plunged back into their lives and respected the rules that had been settled down over the years, implicitly.

They argued, teased, laughed but never talked the way they did once on the yacht. The presence of their friends brought a different balance and the game wasn't the same to play.

She took a sip of martini but made a face. The drink had warmed up for having stayed too long in the sun. She put it back on the coffee table, sat up on her deckchair and leaned her chin on her knees as she passed her arms around her legs.

"Have you ever cheated on someone?"

"Michael… I don't know if I have really been responsible of our downfall but I did spend a night with someone else."

She didn't reply and even avoided his gaze. His confession had taken her aback, leaving her a bit disarmed.

"And you… Have you ever been unfaithful?"

"No but I wish I had, sometimes."

"I don't see why. It isn't glorious."

"Perhaps… But it is fair enough, terribly human."

She took another cigarette out of the pack and offered it to him but he shook his head, almost apologetically.

"I don't smoke."

"You should. It is damn good when everything falls down into pieces."

Lighting her cigarette, she turned her head around and smiled at him. The sun was still surprisingly high in the sky for the end of March and it made her blink.

"Why did you cheat on Michael?"

"She was pretty."

She raised a dubitative eyebrow but didn't say anything and kept on smoking as peacefully as she could in spite of a comment that was rather unexpected. Her silence made him laugh, perhaps a bit nervously but he didn't look uncomfortable either; only intimidated.

"Julie, her name was Julie. She came from Brooklyn. As much as Diane was a mistake and a pure impulsion _ rather stupid _ Julie was different. It had nothing to do. She attracted me, physically. I don't know why, though. It just happened, one night. Then she went away and we never saw each other again."

"It sounds like one of those scenes that we only see in movies, these impossible loves that fade away as if they were meant to be ephemeral. They are the most beautiful ones for being so rare and so strong. Don't you think so?"

"I don't know."

"And what did she look like?"

"You…"

He should have never said that because something broke at this exact moment and she felt bad, growing in discomfort at the seconds were flying by.

Perhaps she was misinterpreting his intentions and had no reason to react the way she was, especially since he didn't seem preoccupied at all. He looked calm, serene while contemplating The Hudson.

"I think that I should go back home now."

They stepped back on the pier and made their way to Riverside Drive in silence. People were still at the terrace of the café, enjoying the last shades of light over the waters. The harshness of the traffic noise hit her immediately as they reached the avenue. She didn't like it. There was no transition whatsoever between the small harbor and Manhattan loud roads. After a moment of tranquility, you were thrown back into the cacophony of the city without any warning.

She hailed a cab and opened the door before turning around to smile at him.

Her lips captured his _making him lose his balance for a few seconds _ but as the effect of surprise went away, she felt his hand slide on her lower back. Her tongue brushed his, burying a gasp over the sensations the kiss was stirring up.

But reality rushed back and the taxi driver honked, making them jump. She broke the embrace immediately but remained still a few seconds; unable to speak.

She felt mortified.

"Good evening."

Her inaudible mumble got lost in the traffic and she hurried on the cab, not daring to look at Will one more time.


	6. Bringing Back Memories

The kiss had been engraved on her lips, warming up her flesh until it began to burn. Then she looked down, ashamed. The days were passing by and she still didn't understand why she had thrown herself in his arms, without any warning. Perhaps it had only been a desperate attempt towards some utopian idea; like feeling alive. It had been ridiculous though and had broken down the odd relation they had had so much difficulty to build on the yacht.

They crossed each other during the week, shared a few meals but the presence of Grace and Jack prevented them from having to deal with their unexpected goodbyes.

She didn't try to call him, didn't send any email and tried to concentrate instead on her marriage. The way her guilt turned into dedication to her husband was so typical that it made her angry, left her frustrated.

If she had never cheated on Stanley until now, the kiss had settled down a new set of rules that dangerously flirted with the notion of infidelity. Sometimes at night _ while alone in her bed _ she wondered what her husband's reaction would be if he happened to learn that she had kissed Will. Deep inside, she held hopes that he would throw a fit before realizing that it might have been his fault as well and that things had to change if he didn't want to lose her once and for all. But most of the times, she ended up thinking that he wouldn't mind for multiplying sexual encounters on his side.

She had no proof whatsoever but for some reason her promiscuity with Will had set off a wave of wonders about the man she had married. She didn't know him that much, barely spent more than two hours a day with him while their last vacations had ceased to be a memory for quite a while. It was all fuzzy.

He might as well have some mistresses.

The weekend arrived and mechanically enough she found herself back on the boat. The sun was piercing through the large French windows, caressing the furniture with warmth. The spring was slowly making its way to Manhattan and she loved that; the smell, the light, the smile on people's faces in the street.

It seemed that everyone was coming back to life.

Until she heard his steps behind in the living-room, she wondered if he would come. The last events might have signed the end of their Sunday conversations. But no, he was back which resulted to make her heart speed up its pace uncontrollably.

She didn't call after him and waited nervously on the upper deck where the sun was hitting strongly; being in the shadows was still rather fresh for the season.

They had come there a few times yet, crossing the master bedroom that overlooked the large deck where she had haphazardly abandoned a dozen of cushions over a mattress. There was something about being on the ground of a boat, something bare she liked a lot. So she kept on avoiding chairs and sofas that cut her from the odd sensation.

She smiled forcefully as he sat down by her side, a bottle of water in hand.

"You don't like alcohol?"

The question seemed to amuse him as he shrugged, laughing lightly. One more time she thought that he looked extremely calm for the circumstances. He always did, keeping it all inside with the only self-order that it didn't have to come out, never.

"I do enjoy a glass of wine in the evening. I don't need more."

"I am sorry for what happened last week. I don't know why I did what I did and I apologize for it."

Even though a part of her would have gladly ignored any allusion to their kiss, Karen knew that they had to mention it at some point; to make it all clear and that, no mattered it was very blurry.

For the first time he looked uncomfortable and barely nodded, clearing his voice a bit pointlessly.

"It was just a kiss…"

At this moment she cast his glance through his sunglasses. She had kept hers on as well, most to avoid his gaze than anything else. She smiled but swallowed hard as she felt the tears well up in her eyes. Something hurt inside, something she couldn't name properly.

Then time got suspended.

Their lips brushed _ again _ before melting in a new kiss. It seemed that everything had vanished but her senses. The breeze caressing her nape, his fingers getting intertwined with hers; the least detail was getting engraved in her mind with the sweetness of hopes we might have kept silent for too long.

They didn't break apart this time but lay down instead, carried away by the contact of their skin and the heat of each other's body.

She had missed it, feeling someone against her and succumbing to his caresses.

Perhaps it shouldn't have been happening. As a matter of fact, there were thousand reasons heading into that direction but as his hand travelled up her hip, she put them all aside and wrapped her legs around his waist to push him closer to her body.

She needed him, now. His long and deep kisses had stirred up old memories that were rushing back to her worn-out heart and it started beating again as if Will were bringing life back to her through his touch. It was probably a mistake but she didn't care anymore. She wanted him, wanted to feel her legs weaken as warmness would spread in her lower stomach and she would shiver under his thrusts; holding him tight.

So she let him do, all along.


	7. Reality vs Fantasies

The first time she had slept with someone, Karen had been taken aback by the way reality ended up imposing itself again without any warning, so quickly. She had thought that the magic lasted until you fell asleep in each other's arms, peacefully rocked by the silence of the night. Between the ones who got up almost immediately to go for a drink in the kitchen and the others who dressed before leaving, her fantasies had crashed rather bitterly.

It had always made her feel uncomfortable if not stupid at all.

And it was worse with Will.

The sun was still high in the sky but the temperatures had considerably lowered now. Her hand was clutched to the large shawl they had used as a blanket and she remained still, unable to look at him or pronounce the slightest word.

They had let their instincts guide them unless they had been caught in a whirl of frustration that only sex had been able to ease. She couldn't say exactly though now that it was over, none of them dared to speak and the silence growing around wasn't easy.

After a few minutes of wonders and doubts, her hazel eyes made contact with his bare arm, going up to his shoulder but as she almost stared at his chin a wave of heat rushed to her cheeks and she turned her head around immediately.

One of them had to do something. They just couldn't remain there until the night came and in the dark they would quietly dress before leaving without exchanging a single gaze.

"Are you okay?"

Her own voice made her jump. She had hoped that the tone she would use would sound peaceful enough but instead it had clearly let appear her nervousness. She hated it.

"Yes…"

Mechanically Karen grabbed a pack of cigarettes that she had abandoned earlier on the floor near the mattress but the gesture sounded so cliché that she dropped it out within a second then settled back in silence.

Perhaps if they had talked, she wouldn't have thought about it. Her mind would have concentrated on any matter and the world would have kept on turning. Her eyes stopped wandering through the sky instead and they got fixed on a cloud. She felt it rush, coming from nowhere but yet with a well-known strength that she couldn't control.

Biting the inside of her mouth to prevent from moaning, she rolled on her side _ turning her back at Will _ and tried to stifle her cries.

She had never felt so ashamed for breaking into tears a few inches away from the man she had just made love with. But her sentiment of guilt was even more oppressing and she couldn't help thinking about Stanley.

"Karen… Are you alright?"

She felt his hand on her shoulder, noticed the pale tone of his voice as well. His discomfort was obvious but even more now that her sobs were shaking her frame.

She nodded but didn't say anything.

Will moved and came closer to her. His gestures were sweet though terribly unsure. As much as she couldn't see him properly, she knew that he was scared; taken aback by something rather unexpected.

"Is it because I have remained quiet? I am sorry; I didn't mean to hurt you in any way. I… I was thinking about a zillion things. It makes me wonder a lot, you know."

"It isn't you."

As the words hit the air, she let go of her sobs and began to cry loudly.

She didn't push him away as he passed his hands on her waist and made her turn around. On the contrary, she let him do and came to rest in his arms; against his chest.

"It is going to be alright. Don't be worried, Karen. You are going to do just fine."

In other circumstances she would have fallen under the charm of the fact that he had guessed the reason of her tears; why all of a sudden she had broken into pieces without explaining the slightest thing. But right now it only added a shade of discomfort over their controversial complicity.

She had cheated on her husband. For the very first time in her life, she had crossed the lines and got a taste over infidelity. It went against her principles, the rules she quietly claimed as hers. Within a second she had swept it all away and shivered in someone else's arms while she was still married.

The guilt was harsh, burning.

Will cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to look into his eyes. She did, a bit reluctantly even though after a few seconds she began to relax and her breath went back to normal.

"You haven't ruined anything, on the contrary. You aren't alone in this story."

What could she have done but nod at him? She wanted to believe him, to trust his words in the hope that the truth would find a resonance in his argumentation. Besides, she felt the urge to put an end to the ridiculous scene that didn't match at all her personality.

She spent the next hour in his arms, talking randomly about life. Then they got dressed, stepped back on the pier and headed up to Riverside Drive.

She kissed him; hailed a cab.

Later that night, as she turned off the lights and settled in bed, Karen swallowed hard. She had never cried in front of anyone, especially not one of the men she had had in her life. Not that it meant they hadn't thought she might have had insecurities but still, none of them had dared to speak about this eventuality.

Her cell phone vibrated on the bedside table. She grabbed it, opened the message she had just received.

_Goodnight,_

_Will_

Why on all the men Manhattan counted, had she had to choose him?


	8. About Marriages And Other Things

She had to see him every day. If for some reason they couldn't make it, a wave of panic set off in her head _ paralyzing her whole body _ and she spent the next hours swallowing back her tears.

She would have never imagined she would react that way to infidelity. In her boldest fantasies she used to embrace it with the same pleasure as his lovers' caresses would bring, without really thinking about the consequences or the actual meanings of it. But instead it seemed to have stirred up some old insecurities and she felt weak.

Will was an addiction she could barely handle. He wasn't like the others and his singularity brought to her persona something she had lacked during a lot of years if not her whole life. He calmed her down, eased her worries and listened to what she had to say. Perhaps that was the main difference. He never ignored her comments, on the contrary.

She simply wished that the weight of her marriage didn't have to darken what she was living.

…

The fax arrived just before he left for The Boat Basin, at some point around noon. He had already put his jacket on and was heading towards the door of his office when he heard the machine set off. Coincidence or fate, Will decided to check the message.

It was from Stanley.

The journey seemed interminable, the traffic so dense that he could almost see the seconds flying away then getting wasted when someone on the other side of the city needed him more than anything.

He ran down the stairs of Riverside Park, didn't stop at the café and rushed to the pier. His heart was beating loud by anxiety. He was scared of her reaction, wondered if she had received the same fax earlier in the morning.

Karen was there, sat on the wooden pier; her bag on her lap. She was staring straight in front of her and looked lost in blank wonders. For a few seconds he didn't dare to approach her and remained a few feet away, unsure of what his next move should have been.

It was a sunny day but she hadn't put her sunglasses on. Instead they were settled on her head, preventing a strand of hair from falling down on her face.

He finally sat down by her side but didn't say anything, only concentrated on the way her hands looked pale against her black pants. Her skin seemed transparent.

"Apparently we were wasting money so he sold it, in my back. He sold it and sent me a text message to tell me about it this morning."

Her face that had looked so calm suddenly tore under the pain but she didn't let go of anything and took a deep breath instead. She wasn't sad but angry.

"I hate him."

Will grabbed her hand then held it tight, with as much delicacy as he could. She looked aside, shrugged. Nothing mattered anymore. She felt tired.

"I don't want to go back home tonight. I don't want to see him, not now."

"You can stay with us. You know that, right?"

"Yes but… Don't take it bad, it is just that I need to be alone. If I can't fall asleep against you then I still prefer to be by myself and not pretend."

They found a room available at The Riverside Tower Hotel. She didn't want to go back midtown or to The Ritz on Battery Park. Instead, she preferred to keep an eye over The Boat Basin and Riverside Park.

The hotel was a low budget one _ far from the luxury she was used to _ but she didn't care that much as long as she still could see the pier.

She made send some clothes and basic items from her mansion to The Upper West Side hotel but against all expectations went back to Grace's office in the afternoon, putting a forced smile on her face.

"What are you thinking about? It seems like you came back here to spend the rest of the day daydreaming. Not that I care but actually, I prefer when you speak."

She didn't reply to Grace and poured herself another martini instead. She was getting drunk, losing any reference to reality. The room wasn't spinning but she felt dizzy and warm.

"Have you seen the new Vera Wang collection? I wish I had one like these for my wedding."

"Don't get married, sweetie. It is a waste of time and emotionally unbearable. Why do you think I drink?"

"Just because yours isn't working out doesn't mean that it is everyone's case. And yet going through an argument from time to time is part of the deal. You are doing a lot better with Stanley than what you think."

Karen restrained a bitter laugh at the remark and tried to stand up but her balance was too precarious for the moment. What if she had told Grace that her relation with her husband had probably been reduced to ashes a few hours earlier? What if she had told her that she had crossed the lines and abdicated to infidelity?

It wasn't a mere crisis. She knew it for having experienced it several times in the past. It went beyond that. They had just lost everything.

"Why did you get married anyway if you aren't satisfied of it? Please don't tell me it is for money."

A long sigh preceded her answer. It made her win some time to try to find a way to hide the disappointment that would have got betrayed through a fragile tone of voice.

She didn't like failing. Nobody did but some people seemed to be better to stay away from it when she always ended up attracted to it.

"Because in spite of all, I am stupid enough to think that I can't do anything if I don't wear a wedding ring."


	9. Blurry Mess Of A Heart

She never went back to The Upper East Side mansion.

Stanley asked for a divorce a few days later. He wasn't seeing anyone but their marriage was obviously over. For the very first time in their life, they didn't argue and signed the papers with an odd relief, a sort of peaceful silence.

The easiness with which they went through the process set off a series of wonders and doubts. Perhaps they had waited for too long, pretended that they could overcome their issues when actually nobody had really wanted to. What if they had wasted time that they would never get back? The idea crept every night in her mind as she turned off the lights and faced the cruel absence of someone by her side. She didn't like the sensation it stirred up, this sort of anxiety that spread over her whole body _ preventing her from breathing properly _ and she couldn't fall asleep.

She found a one-bedroom apartment on Riverside Drive. It was small and rather old but the large windows overlooked The Boat Basin and that was all what mattered in the end. From there she could see the pier she had walked on so many times, the small waves crashing against the boats. The pole number eighteen was still empty and deep inside she hoped that it would remain like that, kind of clutched to the past; her past.

It was childish and egocentric but she couldn't help it.

"Would you like a glass of wine?"

Her head leaned against the window, Karen declined the offer quietly.

"Are you planning to spend the rest of your days sat on this windowsill, looking at boats? Damn, you live in New York City. You should go out!"

"Why would I do that if I am fine here?"

"Then if you are fine, why haven't you unpacked yet? You are living among cardboard boxes."

Reluctantly she abandoned the contemplation of The Boat Basin and looked at Will instead. He had supported her all along since the very moment her yacht had been sold to the signature of the deal for the apartment but when it should have sounded reassuring and nice, it had simply got on her nerves.

So she had taken her distance with him, little by little.

"Where would I put my belongings? I don't have furniture except for a mattress, a coffee table and a sofa. There is no point for me to unpack as long as there isn't any shelf here."

The tension growing suddenly, she looked for an escape but realized that the place was too small for such a thing. The door of the bedroom had been removed and replaced by linen curtains while the door of the bathroom had long disappeared behind a pile of cardboard boxes.

She hadn't lied though when she had said that she actually felt fine there. The mess was hers, matching her blurry existence; her lack of references. There were items everywhere, abandoned haphazardly along her daily wanders through the apartment.

"We can go buy some if you want to. I have a day off so take advantage of it you need anything."

"I have never said that I wanted shelves."

"But… Your books…"

This time she let a sigh of frustration and exasperation slide on her lips and rolling her eyes, she rushed to the first cardboard box. She opened it and took out of it a pile of interior design magazines.

"Look! They fit on the floor; that's perfect."

She dropped out the pile on a corner, loudly enough. A dog barked in the background, probably in the street. She turned on her heels and headed back to the window.

"What are you doing?"

"I am lacking fresh air. What, I am not allowed to open the window now? Where are my cigarettes? I need to smoke."

"Have you looked in your bag?"

"Where is my bag?"

The noise of the traffic avenue covered the coldness of her tone but the tension didn't fly away. She still could feel it on her shoulders, squeezing her heart with an odd strength.

"You don't want to speak, do you?"

The calm temper she had so much appreciated in him had now got extremely irritating and she couldn't help being mad at herself for it.

She found a pack of Marlboro next to her feet, already opened. She grabbed a cigarette, lit it and closed her eyes. Her blood was hitting hard against her temples but the nicotine seemed to slow down her heart, at last.

"I can leave if you don't want me to be here, you know."

"Stop your fucking psychology and shut up for a while, would you? I can't take it anymore."

She turned her back at him not to see his reaction to her words. She was being mean for absolutely no reason, making her feel bad and in pain.

"I miss you."

She closed her eyes even tighter and swallowed back his confession before burying it deep inside. His honesty was delicate, fragile and beautiful. But she couldn't take it.

"Get a life."

"Please call me anytime if you don't feel fine or…"

"Damn, you see this window? It separates two worlds, two different places that can't get mixed. You belong to those piers, to The Boat Basin. Here you are nothing. Deal with it."

"But the window is open…"

She shut it down with a barely contained violence, feeling the heat of shame rush to her cheeks. She would have wished nothing but to jump in his arms and burst into tears, let him rock her peacefully. But it didn't work out, for whatever reason.

As much as her heart was dying for it, her brain refused to make it come true.

She grabbed a bottle of vodka, took a long sip to hide the pain of restrained tears then looked at him straight in the eyes.

"Now it is closed. Are you satisfied?"


	10. You Don't Have Any Message

"He is cute, isn't he?"

She raised an indifferent eyebrow to the question then shrugged, disarmed and hurt. She had been observing them for a few minutes now and in spite of her reticence, she couldn't but recognize that the image sent back by their couple was a very sweet one.

"Are you alright?"

"I have a headache."

She sighed loudly to give more consistency to her lie and adjusted her sunglasses on her nose. There was something about the Fourth of July that she had never liked. If until now she hadn't been able to give more explanations about this odd sentiment, things had changed in the exact morning when she had learned that he would come along to the party with a date.

It hadn't been jealousy but the bitterness of failing that had spread over her mind before embracing her heart coldly.

After all, she fully deserved it. The last weeks had been tough and if he had tried to remain by her side, she had meticulously pushed him away more and more as the days had gone by.

Will had ceased to be part of her life on a Sunday morning when she had yelled at him that he had never really counted. Without saying a word he had turned around and left, for the very last time. He hadn't tried to call her back, hadn't sent her any text message.

Instead he had met Mark.

"He is a librarian."

Her hazel eyes wandered from Grace to Jack but growing in frustration, she finally grabbed her glass and stood up; going away without any explanation.

She wasn't in the mood for gossip or critics. Actually _ now that she was there among the crowd _ she should have stayed at home and spent the evening in bed staring at the fridge on the other side of the small apartment, just like any other night. She didn't have anything to celebrate and even less to smile at.

She left the music and the multicolored lights behind, heading slowly towards the piers that had remained in the dark. She had thought that coming back to The Boat Basin would find its importance in the resonance of her life but it didn't at all, on the contrary. Nothing sounded right and it terribly ached.

She took her stilettos off and frowned as her feet made contact with the bare wood of the pier. It was cold and abrupt, not soft like in her dreams. The breeze caressed her nape. She shivered, swallowed hard to prevent from crying.

There was a boat now at the pole number eighteen. It was a yacht, a large one. She had observed it from the windows of her flat, never daring to approach it properly. Though she knew everything about it and how on Wednesdays a little girl used to climb on it, accompanied by an old man. They remained on the deck, talking. Then around five, they went to the café for an ice-cream.

"I used to come here rather often a few months ago."

"Why did you stop? I walk my dog here every Sunday. It is such a nice place to go to."

"I thought that it was as well but… It happened that I wasn't with the right person."

Embarrassment burnt her cheeks and even though she was in the dark, Karen couldn't help looking down at the ground. Quickly enough she stood up and put back her shoes on then taking a deep breath, she made her way back to the café.

She crossed Will and Mark but didn't look at them. There were some conversations that shouldn't be allowed to be overheard, some things she shouldn't have done either. But it was too late.

She barely made a sign at Grace and headed back to Riverside Drive. Time seemed to speed up its pace and within five minutes she was pushing the door of her flat. She didn't turn the lights on but undressed on her way to bed. She settled under the blanket then turned towards the window. The sky was dark, starless.

And without any warning, the fireworks began. The colors were getting mixed, reflected on her pale face where silent tears were now running. She could hear the world go on outside, without her; the window as a fragile demarcation. But yet she was trapped somewhere in between her stifled cries and a broken heart.

A rush of adrenalin suddenly invaded her heart. She grabbed her cell phone, typed a message on it and didn't think about it twice just sent it to Will.

_I love you._

But the minutes went by and her room remained silent. Outside the fireworks had also ceased but the music was going on. People were happy. She felt empty.

Nobody stopped by that night to see how she was doing. Nobody tried to call her and Will never sent back any text message. She eventually fell asleep, exhausted by her tears.

She didn't dream but kept on floating above a fixed image of Will. He wouldn't talk, wouldn't look at her either. And as if she were too shy to try anything, she simply observed him from outside.

The sun woke her up the next morning, early enough. She got up and headed to the kitchen, mechanically. But instead of pouring herself some water, she grabbed a bottle of whisky and brought it to her lips. She spilled it out in the sink, more disgusted by her gesture than the actual taste of the strong alcohol. Her heart was beating fast; her throat ached.

It resounded loud in the silence of the building, the glass of the bottle exploding into a thousand diamonds in the sink. She bit her lower lip, frowned.

On her way back to bed, she cast a glance at the answering machine and pressed the button.

_You don't have any message._


	11. Cigarettes And Honesty

She had hoped that her smile would be bright and light but as she saw him arrive, she only managed to swallow hard. The beats of her heart had sped up their pace for quite a while now and she hated that.

It wasn't her. This permanent weakness over her emotions was ridiculous. It seemed that her life was slipping through her fingers and she remained still before it, not really disarmed but defeated. Nothing looked the same since she had signed her divorce with Stanley and if she had might thought at some point that it had settled a new beginning, she had been wrong. It seemed that she hadn't stopped dying from then on, lacking references and strength to bear the mere idea of adaptation and changes.

"Hello…"

He didn't reply, only sat down at the table and let a long sigh escape from his lips so that she would notice how the whole situation sounded exasperating to him. His intentions worked and she immediately felt uncomfortable, moving nervously on her seat.

"I am glad that you have accepted to come over."

"I can't keep on ignoring your messages."

She had never been a very spiritual person but from time to time she liked fantasizing about the fact that existence was made of signs; that everything had a meaning and we all should have wondered about them instead of rushing into things.

If Will's words were supposed to follow her secret theory, she had wished that he had chosen others because his unique sentence didn't have anything sweet.

"I was being sincere."

"I don't think so."

She had expected him to throw a fit, eventually shrug off her comment but definitely not deny it as he had just done. It took her aback, sweeping away the last bit of self-confidence she had.

"Would you like to drink something?"

A young waitress arrived. She was probably new because the rest of the staff had had time to memorize their orders seeing how many times they had enjoyed a drink at the terrace of The Boat Basin Café.

How come time seemed to get suspended for entire years and all of a sudden a boat was sold and a new waitress hired, within a second?

"I am going to have a green tea."

"Another gin tonic will do it for me."

As the eyes of the young employee began to look at her a bit intently, Karen tried to find a diversion and lit a cigarette instead. It worked and the waitress went away, probably a bit shocked by her second alcoholic order of the morning.

"I hate when you smoke."

"Would you like me to stop? This is going to be hard but why not."

"I think that you should take decisions according to yourself and not to the others. You are old enough to assume your gestures."

He would have slapped her there, right in front of the rest of the customers, that it wouldn't have been worse. His remarks were sharp, perhaps deserved but the truth was that she wasn't good to cope with them properly and that was an aspect he ignored.

"When you have nothing left and your life is a mess, cigarettes appear to be the last option to make it all a bit less bitter."

"You should have been a writer instead of wasting your talent into cocktails and tobacco."

"Would you have replied to my text messages, then?"

For the very first time since they had started their conversation Will looked embarrassed. Without any warning he grabbed her pack of cigarettes and lit one.

She had never seen him smoking before; had no idea that he actually did, even occasionally. Besides, it didn't match his usual argumentation about the topic.

"I thought that you hated cigarettes."

"I have never said that. I said that I hated when you smoked. You aren't everyone."

"Please, stop this. It really hurts."

Her voice had lowered an octave, weakened as the tears had glimmered in her eyes. She would have preferred his silence over the harshness of every single sentence he made. At least she could have kept on imagining that he wasn't mad at her; that he was just waiting for the right moment.

He looked aside but didn't say a word, nodding quietly to her imploring request. It was fair enough that he wanted to make her suffer as much as she had done with him but there were limits.

"And I love you. I really do."

"No, you don't."

"I do. I love you."

She had been more insistent, this time; leaning over the table and staring at him straight in the eyes. As a matter of fact, she couldn't believe that she had managed to say it out loud and several times.

It was the very first time in her whole life.

But yet it was denied.

"Perhaps you are convinced that you do, Karen, but you are wrong. Your attitude clearly indicates that you aren't in love with me. We don't yell at the ones we love, even less insult them as you did with me. We don't pretend to be someone else or keep on hiding things to our closest friends. We don't try to drown our life in drinks and suffocate our lungs with cigs. We remain honest and bare, instead. Humble… You haven't."

"I made a mistake. I wasn't fine by then."

"And you really think that a text message is going to make it all better? You didn't hurt me, Karen. You made me fall down on my knees before a situation I barely dared to look at properly because it was so frightening, for all the things it meant. And yet I was ready for it; no mattered I lost Grace or Jack in the process. But you treated me as if I were absolutely nothing. This can't be love to me."

"I am sorry…"

"I don't want your apologies. If you think that you are really in love with me then prove it."

"Will you give me another chance, then?"

"I seriously doubt it."


	12. At The End

She slid the bag on the table, towards him. The fact she had had to sit down at the same place as the last time they had met hadn't helped that much. On the contrary, her anxiety had suddenly set off like a rush of adrenalin.

"What is it?"

"Look inside."

Two nights of insomnia and she had finally found the only answer she could actually give him; the only honest one that might make him go back to her. It had come up suddenly, without any warning. Something had boiled in her lower stomach then rushed through her veins, feeding her heart of fast beatings.

And she had known that she had to try it.

Her teeth bit into the flesh of her cheek as he grabbed the bag and cast a glance inside. The perplexity on his face made her smile, nervously enough though.

"Take it out."

Without saying a word Will obeyed and proceeded to get the box out of the bag. He looked uncomfortable now, almost embarrassed by the object he was holding between his shaking hands.

"Are you…"

"Would you drink something?"

Karen restrained a harsh comment towards the waitress and forcefully smiled instead, showing great control of herself. This wasn't the right moment to get interrupted, for anything. Her whole life might depend on it.

"I am going to have a green tea."

"I will have a green tea as well, thank you."

Her order surprised Will, increasing the amount of confusion that had yet invaded his mind for a little while now. Politely he waited for the employee to be left before leaning over the table and plunged his brown eyes into her hazel ones.

"Are you…"

"Open the box."

She didn't let him finish. As much as she had only bought it a few hours earlier the exact morning, she had had enough time to play the whole scenario in her head a thousand times. It had to be perfect. It meant too much to be ruined.

Once again, Will did as she had told him and took the stick out of the box. His eyes remained fixed on the object for several seconds that seemed to last like eternity. As he finally looked up at her, he was frowning.

"It is negative."

The waitress came back with their respective teas, the porcelain clicking against the metallic table in a sweet but yet odd melody.

"If you need anything else…"

Karen shook her head and blushed as she realized that the young woman was staring at the stick Will was holding. It was supposed to be an intimate moment, a very delicate one she had never dared to face at any time in her life until now. A stranger had nothing to do there.

The waitress finally left, a bit reluctantly; eager to overhear the conversation that was coming.

"So if the test is negative, it means that you aren't pregnant, right?"

She didn't sip her tea, only brought it to her lips in order to feel the heat of the drink against her flesh. There was something sweet and reassuring in the gesture that she had always loved.

"I am not, indeed. I have never thought that I could be but… Here is my proof, the one you asked me. I want to have a child with you. I want to build a family with you. This is not a light decision and I am certainly not saying that just in the hope that you will come back to me. I am serious and yet scared to death about it because it is the very first time that I allow myself to make such serious plans about my future. To be completely honest, I have never thought that I would come to this kind of decisions. Maternity didn't fit in, for some reasons I didn't understand by then. But I met you and it suddenly changed. You changed my perspectives, Will. You are the only one who makes me feel like getting the most of this life. I love you, oddly enough perhaps but I still do. I want to have a child with you."

…

They didn't have a child but moved in together the exact same day and never grew apart. Grace gave birth to a girl a few years later and even though she never experienced maternity in its bare meaning, Karen enjoyed taking care of her friend's baby.

Perhaps it was enough in the end.

One day they found a kitten on the fire escape of the building. They kept it and called it Joe, making of it the third member of their family. The world went on; smoothly enough for the lucky ones who managed to find their respective ones.

They didn't get married but for their fifth anniversary of an official relationship, Will offered her a boat.

It wasn't a yacht but a small sailing boat moored at the pole number eighteen. Perhaps it wasn't as luxurious as the ones she had previously owned but it still had something unique that she loved more than anything: it came from Will.

From then on they spent most of their weekends at The Boat Basin but it had ceased to be a secret place and Grace and Jack came along very often. They had lunch there, sat down on the deck and used to face The Hudson until the sun melted in the waters through the softest pink shades.

If you had asked Karen about her life, she would have said that it wasn't perfect. Sometimes they argued, slammed doors and barely talked to each other for a while.

But it was in their imperfection that she appreciated their life. It made them look true, bare and honest.

Always happy at the end and it was all that mattered.


End file.
